Katie didn’t laugh. The duchess was quite capable of carrying the basket on her own, but it gave Katie something to hold on to so her hands wouldn’t shake. She followed the duchess toward the cottage. Now that they were closer, Katie saw the woman in the apron had wispy blonde hair and red cheeks. She paused in hanging the laundry, then dropped the sheet she’d been pinning back into her basket. She gave a deep bow as the duchess approached.
“None of that now, Mrs. Fallow. I’m not the queen.”
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Fallow said, still bowing.
“And this is Lady Katherine,” the duchess said. “Her father is the Marquess of Shrewsbury. You are their tenants now. Unfortunately.”
Mrs. Fallow glanced up at Katie, and her gaze slid to the birthmark and held just a bit longer than was polite, and then she bowed again. “My lady. You honor us with your presence.”
“Where is the little one?” the duchess asked. “My lady’s maid told me you have a sick child.”
“Lizzie and the baby are inside,” Mrs. Fallow said. “Lizzie has a cough and a fever.”
“May I see her?” the duchess asked.
Mrs. Fallow’s blue eyes widened. “Of course, Your Grace.” She wiped her hands on her apron and led Katie and the duchess to the open door of the cottage. Mrs. Fallow entered first, andthe duchess followed. Katie bent her head under the low lintel to step into the dark home. The roof was low, and the interior wasn’t much warmer than outside. A banked fire burned in the hearth, kept alive just enough so that it might be built up for cooking, but not so much that it might use too much kindling.
In a basket on the floor, a baby wrapped in tattered blankets kicked its feet and cooed. A large dog had been sitting beside the baby’s basket, but now it stood, fur bristling. “Down, Bear.”
The dog immediately lay down beside the baby.
“Bear? Is that his name?” Katie asked.
“Yes, my lady.”
“Is he guarding the baby?”
“Yes, my lady. He loves babies and will watch her if I have to step outside. She’s too young to crawl, so there’s not much need yet. But I’ll need him in a few months.”
“Where is Mr. Fallow?” the duchess asked.
“In the fields working, Your Grace.”
“And Lizzie?”
“Just there.” Mrs. Fallow pointed to a bed against the wall, where a small bump interrupted an otherwise flat blanket. While the duchess made her way to the child, Katie stared at Mrs. Fallow. She couldn’t be much older than Katie. In fact, she might be a year younger, and already she had a husband and two children.
“Lady Katherine,” the duchess said, “bring me that blanket on top of the basket.”
“Excuse me.” Katie set the basket on a scarred wooden table in the center of the one-room cottage and lifted the blanket from the top. She carried it to the duchess, who took the thick blanket and held it. Then she removed the blanket covering the child and replaced it with the one she’d brought.
“You needn’t—” Mrs. Fallow began.
“Yes, I do,” the duchess said. “Lady Katherine, do you see those nails on the wall?”
Katie peered closer to the wooden slats that made up the cottage wall. There were gaps in the wood, and she could feel a draft seeping in through the openings. “I do.”
“Tack that blanket up on the nails to give this child some protection.”
After Katie had done so and the blanket hung down, covering the gaps in the wall, the duchess went to the head of the small bed. “Take the foot and pull this bed away from the wall a little. She needn’t be right up against the cold.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Mrs. Fallow said.
From the bed, a hacking cough rose, and the little form under the blanket convulsed and went still. The duchess pulled the blanket down to reveal the pink face of a little girl, her blonde hair so pale it was almost white. She touched the girl’s forehead and made a tsking sound.
“She has a fever. Lady—”
But Katie had already anticipated her and gone to fetch the basket. The duchess took out a bottle and a spoon and gave the child a spoonful of the medicine. “Give this to her every four hours,” she told Mrs. Fallow. “It will help with the fever.”
